


Like a boss

by Wind_Waves



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Foul Language, Gen, Implied excessive violence, Organized Crime AU, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6348916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Waves/pseuds/Wind_Waves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy is the leader of a gang.  He's good at it!  Really!  </p><p>In which Eggsy fails at interrogation, Harry is captured, and Merlin is a snarky bastard who gets things done.  Not necessarily in that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a boss

The warehouse was fucking filthy. It always was, and by now Eggsy despaired of ever getting it clean. Every once in a while, he had some people bleach the place down, but by now even he had to admit the crimes committed in the place had sunk well down into the building’s bones. They lingered in the darkest corners and ghosted about in a miasma of bleach, lye, and occasionally when the wind blew just right, a faint coppery iron that some would say was blood. Eggsy didn’t particularly care one way or the other, but he preferred that his potential victims have _less_ of an idea of what was coming to them, not more. 

At some point, he was going to have the place destroyed. Collect the insurance, or something. But on this particular occasion, he wasn’t even sure the poor bastard in the metal chair in front of him would ever wake to see the warehouse in the first place. 

“You got any idea who he is?” Eggsy said, gesturing at the bloodied man in the chair. 

“None,” Merlin replied, standing next to him. “He was being offered up as part of a trade between Baker’s gang and the Kingsmen.” Merlin flicked an assessing glance at the man over the top of his glasses. “He came like that, by the way- we didn’t do any of that, and Baker didn’t get to touch him before the whole place went up.”

“In what?” Eggsy asked. 

“Bullets, of course,” Merlin said dryly. “The deal didn’t go over well.”

“Huh,” Eggsy said. That was pretty typical of Baker’s gang. Dean Baker was a bully and a braggart, and anything that insulted his fragile pride- which the Kingsman might’ve done, intentionally or otherwise- could cause the man to go off like a landmine. How he was still in business, Eggsy had no idea. “So… if we’re not involved, why the hell is this guy,” Eggsy poked at the man’s leg with his toe, “stuck here with us?” 

Merlin scrolled through his clipboard. “Roxy intervened to collect him because, quote, “We could probably get some useful information out of him,” unquote.”

Eggsy nodded. Rox was practical like that. “Fair ‘nuff.” 

The man slumped over in the chair didn’t seem like much. Possibly decent-looking, behind that nasty head wound. His hair was a dark chestnut brown, drooping over his forehead in lank curls. He wore a real nice suit, and was obviously an older gent; too bad his clothing was ruined now, on account of him bleeding all over it. “You know, he looks like one of Kingsman’s people. Why the fuck were they trading him?” 

“I don’t know. Still, on the off chance, I took precautions,” Merlin said, and gestured at the bonds pinning the man to the chair. Each limb was very carefully tied down, each leg to its own chair leg, and his wrists cuffed together behind his back. Looking closely, Eggsy could tell Merlin had gone through the trouble of tying the man’s arms separately to the chair back, as well. 

Eggsy whistled. “Damn. That really necessary?” 

Merlin’s mouth quirked in the way Eggsy had come to associate with a lecture. Merlin found them amusing because sometimes if he went into enough gory detail, Eggsy would squirm about it. Eggsy did not, for pretty much the same reasons. “You already know what Kingsman’s reputation is like, yes?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Eggsy rolled his eyes, “A bunch of posh gits with a fucking shitload of money, tech, and assassins. Don’t we still have half of one on ice somewhere?” 

“No,” Merlin said patiently, “we mailed that one back a month ago. Keep track of these things, Eggsy, it’s supposed to be your job.” 

“I pay you enough to keep track,” Eggsy muttered resentfully, but shut up when Merlin glared. “Alright, alright! Listening.” 

“The reason I took so many precautions with _this_ particular man,” Merlin continued, “Is because he might have been the one who was responsible for the complete slaughter of Baker’s men in The Black Prince.” He paused. “Which also might have been why they were trading him, come to think of it.” 

“Uh,” Eggsy said hesitantly, “You mean the one where the fuzz said they found like thirty bodies and probably twenty more wounded or in critical condition?” 

“That’s the one,” Merlin said cheerfully. “Some scene witnesses said it was like a grenade went off in the place.” He took one hand off of his ever-present clipboard, and brought it down on his other hand in a fairly evocative splat. 

“Grenades don’t do that,” Eggsy said, going faintly green. 

Merlin’s face lit up with unholy glee. “Yes they fucking do. And if you’d look at the scene pictures-“ 

“No, no, no,” Eggsy said hastily, backing up so quickly he almost tripped over his own feet. “No, ‘fanks, nope. Show it to Gaz, she likes that stuff way more than me. Jesus fucking Christ, I don’t need to see that.” 

“You’re almost as bad as Valentine,” Merlin complained. 

“If Valentine were here, he’d be upchucking all over his fucking neon shoes.” 

“Almost. I said almost.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you too Merlin,” Eggsy said, eyes trained on the man in the chair. “Quit, I think he’s wakin’ up.” 

It was weird as hell, the way the man woke up. He stayed completely limp, except Eggsy could see him testing the tension of the ropes, muscles firming up his legs and through his shoulders to his arms. Only after that was finished did he lift his head, eyes blinking open to reveal unexpectedly warm, soft brown eyes. They didn’t seem like they belonged to a Kingsman assassin. 

Merlin came in close and beamed a flashlight into the man’s eyes, holding his head still when he flinched away. “Concussed. Possibly drugged.” 

“Are we gonna have to get medical up in here?” 

“No,” Merlin said, “Not yet. I’ll have them on standby, just in case.” He stepped back. “Carry on.” 

“A’ight.” Eggsy turned his attention back to the man. “So, bruv. Ya mind givin’ us yer name?” 

The man straightened up abruptly at that, but only managed a bleary sort of squint. “Harry,” he finally said, in an accent that could rival the Queen’s. 

Posh, which was another tick in the “probably a Kingsman assassin” column. But most importantly: cooperative. Eggsy could work with that. “Harry? Got a last name?” 

“No,” Harry No lastname said. “Not yet.” 

“Cool, cool. Soz. You feel like telling us anything?” 

Harry looked at him blankly. “About what?”

“Ya know,” Eggsy shrugged, “why Kingsman was going to trade you to Baker’s gang, what Kingsman is up to, hell, what Baker’s up to…” He paused. “Shit like that. You know anything?” 

Something changed. Eggsy couldn’t quite put his finger on what, but it made him stiffen and take his hands out of his pockets. Merlin, next to him, took a threatening step forwards. Harry hadn’t even moved, but something about his soft-looking eyes and his mild expression had gone hard and cold. 

“What I know,” the man said, “is that Chester fucking King is a fucking arseheaded prick _bastard_ who ought to be eviscerated and left to die stinking in his own shit.” 

Well then. Eggsy picked up his jaw from where it had dropped to the floor, considered the ramifications of _that_ particular statement, and opened his mouth again. “Er. Well. Can’t argue with you there, mate.” And he couldn’t. Eggsy had never needed to interact with the leader of Kingsman much, and good luck, that was, because otherwise he didn’t know how he would have resisted giving the stuck-up prick a right kick in the bollocks. Harry was posh, though, so he wouldn’t have a reason to be mad at King. Or so Eggsy thought. “But what did he do, exactly?” 

“He’s a traitorous tit with his head stuck so far up his own arse that he can taste the vomit he spews coming out the other side,” Harry said coolly, without actually answering the question. His head lolled back a moment later. “Shit. Fuck.” 

“’Ey,” Eggsy said, “you alright?” 

“No,” Harry said. “Stay back, unless you want vomit on your clothing.” He eyeballed Eggsy’s jacket and shoes. “Though in this case, it might actually be an improvement.” 

Eggsy clutched at his black and gold Adidas jacket defensively. “Oi, don’t insult the fucking jacket, mate. Yours ain’t looking so hot either.” 

Harry sniffed. He had a lot of cheek for a man tied to a chair and bleeding out, that was for fucking sure. 

“Enough,” Merlin cut in. “Harry, or whatever your name is. It seems like you’re being cooperative, so I’ll tell you this: we’re no friends of Chester King either. If you’re willing to answer our questions, we’ll untie you and get you medical attention. The cuffs stay on, unfortunately.” 

Harry watched them both warily. “How do I know that you're telling me the truth?” 

“How do we know that you will?” Merlin shot back. “Take the deal, or not. It’s no skin off my nose.” 

Which was a lie, Eggsy thought; it was lots of skin off Merlin’s nose, and no mistake. Keeping his nose in everyone else’s business was practically in Merlin's job description, and if Harry cooperated it would make things much easier for Merlin. They knew more about Kingsman than most, but in comparison to the other gangs around London, the group was practically a closed book. 

Harry had a staring contest with Merlin for a bit, all softness gone. By now, Eggsy was nearly certain it had been an act. He shifted his weight to one side and folded his arms, bored, waiting for Harry to make up his mind. 

“Harry Hart.” 

“Beg pardon?” Eggsy said, not sure he’d heard Harry correctly. 

“My full name,” Harry said. “Harry Hart. And yours?” 

“You won’t be hearing mine,” Merlin said, scribbling away on his clipboard, “But you can call him Eggsy. Eggsy Unwin.” 

“Hmm.” Harry gave Eggsy a narrow-eyed glare. “Very well then. Now, I would be much obliged if you could untie me. I do believe my arms are going numb.” 

God, the nerve of this man. Eggsy shook his head, unable to suppress the wide grin tugging at his lips. 

“Alright, bruv,” he said, just to see Harry’s face twitch. “Hold still.” Eggsy produced a switchblade, and deftly slit the ropes tying Harry to the chair. Hands first, then feet. 

“Thank you,” Harry said, and immediately tried to stand. 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Eggsy yelped, jumping to catch him as Harry swayed and nearly collapsed. For how slim the man was he sure weighed a lot. Eggsy gritted his teeth and gamely waited until Harry was ready to support his own weight again, shifting off of Eggsy’s chest. 

“Oh,” Harry said, “you _were_ armed.” 

“You cheeky fuck,” Eggsy swore, realizing that Harry had been feeling him up under the jacket. 

“Yes, Hart, and be glad we didn’t feel the need to use it,” Merlin said. “Here, hold these for me,” he passed Eggsy his clipboard and pen, “up you get.” He slung his own arm around Harry’s shoulders, and they began the trek to the side door of the warehouse, Harry awkwardly leaning as best he could against Merlin’s height. 

Harry put on a good front, but Eggsy could see how deathly pale the man was. The concussion and blood loss had undoubtedly affected him more than he let on. 

While Harry was preoccupied, Eggsy took the opportunity to glance at Merlin’s clipboard. It wasn’t any old clipboard, of course. It was fucking special. He lifted the cover sheets of paper- which did actually have some writing on it, god bless Merlin’s pedantic soul- to reveal Hart’s own face staring up at him, scans of his military personnel review showing on the paper-thin electronic touchscreen underneath. 

Eggsy smirked. Merlin was worth every penny he paid the man. He let the papers fall back, stuck the pen back on the board, and tucked it into the crook of his arm. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he followed Harry and Merlin out the door, grinning widely. 

Even the dim sunlight and what passed for fresh air in London was a relief after that fucking warehouse. Merlin had already taken the passenger seat, so he climbed into the back of the van with Harry, who was already being fussed over by a paramedic. Harry watched Eggsy, mildly perturbed. 

Eggsy allowed his grin go wider and show his teeth, sharklike. “It’s been a good day,” he said, and bid the warehouse a jaunty adieu as it drew away in his sights.

Next week, he decided. Next week, he’d have the thing burned down. Maybe he’d even frame some of Baker’s men for it. 

A no-kill interrogation, a possible new man in his crew, and a way to get Baker in deep shit. Everything wrapped up neatly. Eggsy hummed quietly to himself, keeping half an eye on Harry and the other on the road, just in case they were being tailed. 

It had been a very good day indeed.


End file.
